Love The Way You Lie
by XxBeccixX
Summary: "Is it wrong to regret saving someone? I know I do. Every day I can't help but wonder; 'Did I do right refusing to kill him' In the end I do love Anders. But most of all I love the way he lies." Hawke muses over her relationship with Anders after a year on the run. A short, very angsty fill for LJ K!Meme. Full warnings inside.


An answer to a K!Meme prompt that caught my attention about a year ago, I'm continuing to clear out my hard drive before I post anymore of my newer stuff. It was a quick micro-fill done in an hour and a half or so, short and angsty; what I'm good at. ;] Here's part of the prompt:

_'All right, I must admit I got this idea listening to "I love the way you lie" by Eminem and Rihanna; I am not a fan of rap, but this song is amazing. It has so much feeling, so much emotion! Apparently it's about an abusive relationship, and I can totally imagine Anders and F!Hawke in a POSTGAME relationship of this kind. __So, they are on the run together and they have this love-hate relationship because: 1- Anders blew up the Chantry 2- Hawke can't forgive him for that 3- Anders doesn't comprehend how come Hawke doesn't understand him 4- Hawke struggles with the fact that she shouldn't have let him live 5- Anders thinks the same (maybe he has suicidal thoughts) 6- And despite all of that, they still are very much in love.__This leads to angst, romance, hurt and comfort, rough sex, may be dubcon sex, angsty sex, a lot of fighting (better if it's only verbal fighting for me), and an urge for physical pain (self-inflicted perhaps). There are so many possibilities.'_

_**Warnings**__: Dubcon, abusive relationship, all that jazz_

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**Love The Way You Lie**

Is it wrong to regret saving someone?

I know I do.

Every day I can't help but wonder; 'Did I do **right** refusing to kill him?'

I can still see the deep betrayal in Sebastian's eyes; glowing a wretched dark red from the explosion still raging above us. They were the same colour as dried blood; I don't think I'll ever forget it. Years of trust had been dashed by a few thoughtless words said while making a rash decision. I might have well have taken my dagger and driven it through his heart. I think as far as he's concerned I did.

Was I justified when I told him I'd stay by his side, for better or worse?

Well we've had the worse, Maker knows some days I open my eyes in the morning and want nothing more than to close them and never wake up again. I'm still waiting for the better. But each dawn brings more hurt. More running. More anger. More resentment. More all-consuming utter _**loathing**_. Each morning brings him.

He's not the man I fell in love with. The Anders I first met had been full of life and love, smiles and a desire to _help_ not **harm**. This Anders is bitter and angry and _twisted_ and I can't help but think maybe I am too.

They say people change with time, that sometimes they drift apart; but despite everything I won't leave him. I _can't_. Every time I try he stops me, and I stop myself.

I can see him walk into the bedroom by his reflection in the cracked looking glass I'm holding; I've long given up trying to do anything with my hair. What's the point? Most days it hangs limp around my ever thinning face in listless dark blonde curls, but today is different; today is the day he changed my life forever. Selfish, cruel **bastard** that he is.

Without a word he regards me, his dark brown eyes drilling into mine across the room as I twist the braid into an elegant knot at the base of my neck. In the absence of rogue I've pinched my cheeks and my lips to redden them; I can see the wanton lust in his gaze and it sets my skin on fire. But even the most primal of desires has been tainted by suspicion.

I pull my eyes from his hungry expression to pin my hair in place and I'm not sure whether or not to push him away or draw him closer when he drags me back to crush against his chest, strong arms wrapping around my waist. He fists the robes by my belly and dips his nose to inhale my scent; I don't even turn to look, I just watch from the mirror. Even _I'm_ surprised by just how indifferent I am.

"What's the occasion?" His voice is raspy from misuse; we've long stopped talking. Whenever we do we only start shouting.

"It's an anniversary of sorts."

He hums a soft inquiry into my neck, brushing his nose against my pulse and for a moment I falter and lean back into him; my submission is rewarded with the softest of kisses and I'm immediately repulsed. Such affection is from another time, from another Anders but for the smallest of moments I allow myself to imagine that we're back in my room in Kirkwall – the world hadn't existed for us outside of those four walls as he kissed my body, moved above me and made me _**sing**_.

"Last year, this time tomorrow, you killed hundreds of innocent people."

The soft kisses stop and he stills against me, I see him look up at me through the looking glass. The emotion there takes me by surprise, for once there's no irritation, only dull acceptance and irrationally I'm sorry for my words. Both of us know that we can't take them back; we've each caused our fair share of hurt. This is what we've been reduced to; taunting, mocking, ridiculing and **hurting** each other with small, spiteful acts and words to feel like we've had our revenge for actions and bitter emotions that neither of us can remember the details of.

Anders smooth's his hands over my abdomen, easing the creases from the fabric and I can see Justice flickering behind his eyes. Strange how the spirit that destroyed what we had is the only thing that stops us both from tearing each other apart these days. With a sigh he pulls away, but I'm not finished with him yet.

"What's wrong? You were all too eager to fuck me the night before your _justice_ last year," I spit turning to settle the entirety of my ire on him. He doesn't even blink. We've been through this too many times. "Tell me Anders, did it feel good to do it when you knew that the next evening you'd be fucking me over in an entirely **different way**?"

He just stares at me, but I can see that my words have sparked against his shortened fuse and electricity jumps between his fingers. "I didn't – "

"Don't bullshit me, Anders. Maker knows I think after a _year_of running we can be honest with each other."

"You're a mage, Hawke! How can you stand there and tell me that you didn't want this; the Circles are rebelling! Everything we've worked for – "

Again I don't let him finish and I press forward, bitter tears in my eyes; we both know they're not from sorrow. "No! This is everything **you** worked towards. _I_ wanted a _normal_ life! I wanted a family! And you were too busy thinking about **yourself** to care!"

"To the Void with that, Marea!" He's just as angry as I am now and he advances on me, I tighten my grasp on the sharp edge of the mirror. The warm, slick sensation of my own blood across my fingers is oddly comforting; it's a stark reminder that despite how dead I feel I **am** alive. His voice is soft and icy when he finally bows his head to speak again, "I warned you about all of this. I told you, you would never have a normal life; it's not my fault that you were too pigheaded to take the hint. You're free to leave whenever you like."

I snort. "Oh really? If I were to pack my things right now and tried to leave this ramshackle _heap_ we call home you're telling me you'd let me?"

The fierce, possessive look in his eyes is answer enough and I shake my head.

"You're right you know." He looks shocked for a moment and I'm certain that the manic, sadistic smile that threatens to crack my face makes me look insane but I can't bring myself to care. Its only about who can cause the most pain now. "And so was Sebastian; I should have listened to him when he told me to be careful around you…And Fenris was right when he called you an abomination. But do you know what Anders, you're worse than that; because an abomination will never try to hide what it is in the end; you're still trying to pretend that there's something _**human**_ left inside you – "

That seems to do it. Everything happens at once. With a loud smash the mirror breaks to pieces on the hard floorboards; but it's not as deafening as the resounding, sharp crack that his hand makes when it makes contact with my face. Neither of us says anything for a long moment. Dully I realise my cheek and lip is throbbing and when I look at him from beneath my fringe I'm not sure whether or not I see guilt there or righteousness.

He grabs my hands before I can retaliate and forces me back against the wall with a strength that knocks the wind from me. Sensing my spiteful insults simmering on the surface he crushes his lips to mine in a bruising kiss and melds his body against mine; we're both futile to the desires of our bodies and despite the lingering pain my words and his strike have caused I moan into his mouth.

His lips are chapped and his tongue is hot as he insists entry into my mouth. Teeth find my lip and my groan of desire becomes a groan of pain; despite the ferocity of his kiss he wraps his lips about my own lower one and sucks, his tongue swiping over the cut to ease the pain. We both know that if he wanted to he could heal the already bruising handprint across my jaw; we both know I could as well; but we're both as sick as each other like that. I like to show him the pain he inflicts on me and, Andraste help us, he likes to be _reminded_ of the pain.

Our bodies are a map of guilty hatred and need. We never heal any of the damage we cause each other.

Clothes are shed and torn with an abandon that shocks us both. And in minutes we're on the bed with him pounding into me. There is no preparation and I grimace at how long it has been since we've come together like this. He gives me but a moment to adjust before his first earth shattering thrust. There is nothing loving in the way we make love; we leave bruises, bloody bites and gouges along each other's skin. I shriek my pleasure as he hoists my legs back against the thin mattress by my head and he answers with loud animalistic grunts before his teeth find my thigh, marking me.

Somewhere distantly I wonder if this is what Isabella would call rutting. My thoughts scatter when Anders shifts his weight and I tangle my hand in his hair as my other tears his shoulder to shreds. Maker I missed this; the intimacy of having him inside me, even when our passion is laced with anger, bitterness and abhorrence.

I'm screaming. Something degrading; that I'll regret in the morning. _"Oh Maker, Anders! There! There, Love, there!"_

He's right there with me when I tumble down the precipice and the world shatters. And we fall together, riding out our joint ecstasy. When reality slowly starts to piece itself back together I become aware that he has his arms around me. He's trembling and I don't need the damp sensation against my neck to know that he's crying. I card my fingers through his hair, almost clinical in my compassion and eventually he rolls off to my left.

"I love you," he whispers brokenly against my shoulder and I return the sentiment softly before reaching round to grasp his hand and wrap his arm around my waist. He spoons against my back, his breathing evening out. It's a lie we both know well; but in a way it's a truth too. We love to hate, and that's something that binds us closer than the word itself.

As I turn to look at him his gaze softens slightly. We make a promise; to change for the better and forgive each other everything. It's a lie I relish.

I know that this calm won't last; I know that in the morning it will all start again...but tomorrow's a different day and for now we're content. And I am content to fall asleep in the safe embrace of his arms. That's all life is in the end; one long mistruth. And this...this is the one lie I won't live without.

Because in the end I do love Anders.

But most of all I love the way he lies.


End file.
